The wrath of monsters, p.21
The Wrath of Monsters, page 21
“That might not be wise,” Radcliffe says.
“What is that supposed to mean? Children. We’re talking about children pursued by men with guns.”
“Rendering aid is not the optimal strategy,” Radcliffe says. “We will be better off avoiding these people altogether. To maintain the element of surprise.”
I blink until my vision zooms out and glare at Radcliffe. “We save children.”
Radcliffe appears ready to lecture me, but Gilmore, still looking through the rifle’s scope, speaks first.
“Agreed. We have to help the kids, and we need a plan of action pronto. The soldiers captured the woman and kids.”
Radcliffe frowns. “Very well. We save the children. I hope this does not ruin our chance at closing the slipstream.”
****
I brush against the sleeper as I lope up the hillside with unnatural ease. On the stiff breeze coming down the slope, I can discern the individual scents of my prey, including the rich aroma of recently drunk coffee. I wonder if the ambrosial flavor of java will infuse the man’s raw, bloody flesh as I gorge myself on his writhing body. And the young ones…will their flesh be exceptionally tender?
I squeeze my hand so tight my fingernails cut half-moons into my palms, then bloody grooves. Stop. Stop! Stop!
The sleeper withdraws, and its gory fantasies fade from my forethought, although the afterimages remain. Luckily, the infinite wealth of physical prowess still courses through my body as potent as jet fuel. Already I have a flanking position on the three mercs holding the woman and children. Keeping low, I move behind a small, twisted tree and crouch. Although perhaps five hundred feet separate me from the mercs and their captives, I listen to the conversation as easily as if I’m among them.
“Stop your whining!” A black-clad man raises his rifle’s butt and feigns striking a whimpering boy.
The child cowers, and the woman tries to throw herself between him and the weapon, only to have her movement impeded by her hands zip-tied behind her back. The other captives, a boy and girl too small to pose any threat, have their hands behind their backs too. I nearly burst from my hiding spot to run down the evil men, but I stop myself.
The flickering dragon highlighting his location, Radcliffe has yet to take up his flanking position opposite mine. A coordinated assault is the plan. That will give the captives the best chance of survival. If I move without Radcliffe, I’m sure I can overcome the fiends without suffering harm, but the same cannot be said about the children. So I wait the interminable seconds, minutes, I don’t know which, until Radcliffe reaches the agreed-upon position. At least my squad, Dad, and Gilmore remain at the parking lot hidden behind the bathroom.
“Should we call it in?” a trooper asks.
“Why? We have our orders.”
“I didn’t sign up to shoot kids.”
As soon as the words are out of the man’s mouth, I’m at full tilt, all pretense of stealth trampled under my sneakers. Radcliffe isn’t in position, but I don’t care. I’m not about to let a child be executed. I might only be half a human, but I’m not a monster either, and I will never compromise on this.
By the time the soldiers hear my approach, I’ve cut the distance between us in half. When they face me, I’m already on top of them. Eyes bugging out of his head, the soldier nearest me raises his rifle, but it’s too late because I smash into him like a freight train. He crumples beneath me with the crack of snapping bones. In my peripheral vision, Radcliffe has broken cover and charges up the slope with inhuman speed, the man and the dragon in perfect unison.
The soldier who threatened the boy points his weapon at the child. “Stay back or—”
I am the whirlwind, moving faster than my opponent can twitch his trigger finger. I yank his finger from the trigger so hard the digit detaches from his hand with a pop of bone and a spray of blood. His screams fill the air. Dropping the finger, I’m about to punch him with my full power, but I stop myself. If I do that, I’ll kill him. Instead, I slap him with an open hand. He’s unconscious before hitting the ground, but he’ll live.
The children sob, and the woman pleads, “Please don’t hurt us!”
The scent of urine intrudes on the otherwise pleasing scent of fresh blood. My gaze falls on the captives, spotting the dampness on the girl’s shorts. They fear me as much or even more than the gunmen. My tongue slips from my mouth, stretching for something oozing along my face to the right of my nose. I gasp, tingling with pleasure at the metallic tang of my prey’s blood. Trembling, I muster all my human willpower to keep from dropping to the ground to stuff the detached finger into my mouth.
The report of a gunshot echoes across the landscape.
Chapter 34
With the gunshot ringing in my ears, I duck low and maneuver myself over the crying children. The woman, a park employee by her uniform, kicks out at me with her feet inside dusty, heavy-duty hiking boots. She connects with my shin below the knee.
“Ouch!” I’d like to kick her back but compromise at shooting her a thorny glower. Can’t she see I’m trying to protect the children?
I glance in the direction of the gunshot. Radcliffe stands about twenty feet downslope over the unmoving body of the final gunman.
“Ouch!” This time the woman lands a solid blow to my kneecap. Pain blossoms up and down my leg as I hobble back a few paces. “Would you stop? We’re saving you.”
“Stay back, you monster!” she says through clenched teeth and kicks again with both feet. Luckily, I’m already out of range.
That word, though, monster, slices me like a knife punching into my guts. Why is it I always have to be the monster girl? I wanted—my innards twist both with hunger and disgust—to eat that man’s trigger finger, but I didn’t. I resisted the urge. It’d be nice if the stench of fear didn’t roll off them like spoiled milk, and the park ranger stopped assaulting me.
“We saved you from the soldiers.” Above the pocket on her left breast is a name badge. “Lani? Park Ranger Lani, I can snap the zip tie.” I glance at the children, flashing them a winning smile. “For all of you.”
“Stay back,” Lani says, spittle flying from her mouth, then starts shimmying across the ground away from me. The children follow her example.
“Seriously?”
The eyes of all three go wide, and I can’t help noticing they focus on something behind me. Of course, I can hear Dr. Radcliffe’s footfall crunching against pebbles and dirt as he closes in.
Lani’s expression turns from angry fear to terror, and the children switch from half-controlled sobbing to sloppy crying. A quick peek proves Radcliffe is scaring them witless. The right side of his head above the eye is conspicuously missing. Instead of spilling blood and gore, the wound exposes grayish material reminiscent of clay. This doesn’t surprise me because I know his humanoid golem is made of clay and animated by draconic magic.
“Are these humans uninjured?” Radcliffe says. “I am afraid I may have killed the one back there.”
“The kids and Lani are fine. Just scared. I don’t think I killed anyone.” I tap the right side of my skull with a finger. “You’re missing part of your head.”
Radcliffe, the glimmering dragon, inspects the wound before flashing from existence and reappearing a second later, staring at me. “That happens when a bullet passes through one’s head.” He waves to Lani and the kids. “I am not hurt and will not harm you.” His gaze falls on me. “We best hurry. The gunshot may attract unwanted attention.”
We face Lani and the kids. Honestly, I’m glad they haven’t managed to regain their feet and make a run for it yet, not that they’d get very far.
“Listen, those men were about to shoo—”
The boy interrupts in a soft, squeaky voice. “You’re Allison Lee. You’re on TV.”
I blink, surprised they choose to suddenly recognize me now. Couldn’t they have recognized me sooner and spared me the kicks and incessant crying?
“Yeah,” the girl says. “You’re the monster girl. Monsterspotting.com! My big brother is always looking at your pictures. He has a crush on you.”
Wincing, I nod. “That’s me.” I hook a thumb in Radcliffe’s direction. “That’s Dr. Radcliffe. I know he looks pretty scary right now, but he’s not human, and he’s not hurt. I know you can’t see it, but he’s really a dra—”
“Dragon,” the kids say in unison.
I nod again. “Ummm…yeah. So no need to be afraid. We’re here to save you.”
Lani squints at me, mouth agape. She points her left index finger at the sky, then at me. “I saw a clip of you testifying. Before the Senate.”
The overwhelming fear drains from all three of them, and they let me snap the zip ties binding them. I even learn the children’s names, Caleb and Jen. For once, being a celebrity isn’t absolutely terrible.
****
I unsling the second unconscious soldier from my shoulder, leaning him next to his equally insensible partner in the odiferous men’s bathroom. Lucky for the man missing his finger, Gilmore and Lani possess basic first-aid training. Together they managed to stanch and bandage the wound. We tried interrogating the man while the first-aid was applied, but we didn’t get much. He and his compatriots are mercenaries, extremely well paid to do what they’re told and not ask questions. Their job was to round up tourists around Mauna Kea, which they had done quite effectively. Only then Lani and the kids spoiled everything by escaping.
We might’ve gotten more info out of him, but that’s when Dalia decided it was a good idea to kick his wounded hand. He promptly passed out from the pain. On the plus side, Lani can lead us to an outbuilding of a radio telescope array where some of the tourists are held.
The man I ran over like an angry rhino breathes raggedly; honestly, it sounds pretty awful, like scary bad. I’m afraid he might die. He was about to shoot the children, so I don’t have sympathy for him, but I don’t want more blood on my hands, either. I don’t need more ghosts haunting my dreams.
I double-check the zip ties binding their hands behind their backs, murmuring, “You don’t kill kids. And make smarter choices next time. Your partner. He’s in the women’s bathroom. He didn’t make it.”
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes and march out of the bathroom. Why am I talking to these unresponsive men? At least, a soft voice whispers to me, it’s better than talking to the dead.
****
“No way! I’m going with you, and I want a gun.” Dalia crosses her arms before her chest.
“I’m coming too.”
Haji jumps down from the back of the jeep to stand next to Dalia. I shoot him an exasperated look.
Haji raises a hand palm outward. “But I don’t need a gun. I have magic.”
“You’re suffering from Juice withdrawal.” I shake my head. This is going about as well as I expected.
At least Gilmore has agreed to stay with Caleb and Jen, who sit in the back of the jeep. He plans to motor to a nearby copse of trees where they will be hidden from view but still close enough to help out the soon-to-be-free hostages.
I need Haji and Dalia to go with Gilmore and the kids, but I don’t know what to say to convince them. If you ascend Mauna Kea, you’ll die. That will go over like a balloon leaking mustard gas.
“Allison, I need to stay near Haji in case his withdrawal symptoms worsen,” Dad says.
“I know. You can stay behind too. Dr. Radcliffe and I can handle this.”
Dalia and Haji look at me with disapproval. Dad scoffs and shakes his head. I turn to Dr. Radcliffe, hoping for support but not expecting any. My eyes widen at his deformed skull. Even knowing his humanoid form is not a human at all and a magical machine doesn’t make the sight any less disconcerting.
Radcliffe points skyward. His draconic head has been obsessively scanning the sky since the gunshot. “We do not have time to argue, Allison.”
I point to Lani, who holds a walkie-talkie liberated from the soldiers. Gilmore has the other in the jeep. “We’ve listened in on the radio chatter. There’s no indication they heard the gunshot.”
“Perhaps, but someone will eventually notice the men in the restrooms have gone missing. We started this journey as a team. We should continue as a team,” Radcliffe says.
Dalia retrieves one of the rifles leaning against the restroom building. “We have a job to do. Free the hostages, then save the world. Let’s roll.”
Chapter 35
Lani, armed with a rifle she admits that she doesn’t know how to use, leads the way at a fast pace across an increasingly Martian landscape that reminds me of the reddish-orange dirt and rock from my nightmares. With every footstep, dread scurries over me like hundreds of chittering cockroaches. I glance over my shoulder. Fit from running hundreds of miles in cross country, Dalia keeps pace a few feet behind me, although she does breathe hard. Radcliffe lopes along easily, his dragon form flashing. Like me, he could easily outpace Lani and everyone else. Haji lags behind, his deteriorated physical capacity on full display. Dad stays beside him, offering encouragement every dozen strides or so. Ahead of us the summit of Mauna Kea is cloaked in dense fog.
We’ve been slogging uphill for the better part of two hours when Lani calls a halt several hundred feet before our path intersects the winding road up the side of the volcano. I’m far from exhausted, but I’m glad to stop for a few minutes as the backpack straps slung over my shoulders have started to chafe. I unsling the backpack and offer water to Lani and Dalia as we wait for Haji and Dad to catch up. Both women gulp down water.
Dalia hands me back the open, half-empty canteen. I take a drink and replace the lid.
When Dad and Haji catch up, they both guzzle the water greedily and return the canteen empty. I offer them more water, which Dad immediately turns down. Haji looks ready to ask for more but then shakes his head.
“Are you sure you don’t want more?” I ask.
“I’m good. Ready to take home the bacon.” Haji manages a half-hearted smile. His dark wavy hair is matted down to his scalp by sweat. A red blush is visible on his dark cheeks.
When I hear his sports reference—he’s told me dozens of times taking home the bacon is attributed to an old-time boxer—and see his goofy smile, I can almost believe the old Haji, my good, good friend is back. But the smile, the mirth, the goofiness never reaches his eyes.
“Come on.” I put the empty canteen back in the backpack and take out a full one, offering it to Haji. “You’ll be doing me a favor. Less water, less weight.”
“All right.” Haji smiles and takes a canteen.
“Allison,” Radcliffe calls from where the others gather around Lani.
I join the group, followed by Haji, gulping water. He hands the bottle back to me, nearly empty, which is a relief.
Lani points to a hill across the road. The road loops around the base of the landmark to disappear from view. “From the top of that hill, we’ll have a line of sight on the outbuilding.”
The park ranger gives us a quick rundown of the outbuilding and other structures, making a sketch with the butt of her rifle. “Two men were guarding the building.” Lani indicates a square surrounded by a larger rectangle, a fence. “A van was parked out front. They used it to transport the prisoners to the building.”
“Once we free the hostages, they can use the van to get away,” Dalia says.
People nod and voice general agreement.
“Have we heard anything on the walkie-talkie about the mercenaries we took out?” I ask.
Lani shakes her head. “I haven’t heard a thing about them or anything else.”
“Does that seem odd?” I look at Dad and Dr. Radcliffe.
Dad shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m not a soldier.”
“We still have the element of surprise,” Radcliffe says with confidence. However, his dragon head continues to scrutinize the sky and landscape. “If the faeries or skaags suspected our presence, we would already be under attack.”
“I don’t want to walk into a trap,” I say.
“They do not know we are here,” Radcliffe insists.
I hope he’s right. I point to the diagram at our feet. “Here’s what we do.”
****
Lani and I drop to our bellies before the crest of the hill. The ground is strewn with rocks and pebbles that press uncomfortably against me. We low crawl the last few feet to the peak. My knee scrapes against a jagged rock, and I wince. Lani fares even worse in her tan shorts, a perpetual grimace plastered on her face.
Reaching the summit first, I poke my head up to discover if what we’re dealing with matches Lani’s diagram. The dominant landmark is the radio telescope array behind a tall fence. I sweep my gaze from the astronomical equipment to the blocky building behind a barbwire fence, and my pulse goes ultrasonic. My prosthetics zoom in on the figures standing before the building. The sleeper thrashes inside me, ready to fight or flee; I don’t know which.
“Gaaah.” I scramble backward and grab Lani by the shoulder to keep her from raising her head. My prosthetics are still zoomed way in like a super telephoto lens, throwing my perspective into la la land.
“What is it?” Lani tries to shake herself free. “Ouch! You’re hurting me.”
I release her. “Sorry. Not so loud. Sorry, I didn’t mean to. It’s just…” I keep blinking until my prosthetics finally zoom out, and Lani snaps into focus, frowning and rubbing her deltoid. “I saw a faery.”
“What? You’re not serious?”
“As stage four cancer.”
Lani looks toward the crest. “I want to see.”
“Slowly. Faeries have sharper senses than humans, and where there is one, there might be more.”
Nodding, Lani crawls forward, and I follow. In front of the building beside the entrance is a mercenary dressed all in black, armed with a rifle, speaking to a faery with its dragonfly wings on full display.
“Wow. So that’s a faery?” Lani starts to unsling the rifle from her back.
“Hold up. What are you doing?”
Lani stops and hunkers down. “I want to get a look through the scope. I’m not going to try to shoot anyone.”
